Brothers in Arms
by M. Marchand
Summary: Don must face his greatest fear when his work could cost Charlie his life.
1. Prologue

Acknowledgments:  
Omi as always  
Kim - For being both an encouraging beta and my comma queen  
For all the BTN readers who offered comments during open beta  
especially Almathea whose advice caused me to rewrite one scene  
ten times until I felt it would meet with her high standards 

Disclaimers:  
"A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend" - Willow, Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
I do not own the characters Don, Charlie, Alan, Terry or David nor do I  
have any rights to anything related to the TV show Numb3rs. I plead fair  
use and claim only my own writing and characters.

* * *

Prologue:

"Let me get this straight. Larry, who purports to be your friend, is the one who claims that your department is the least... what word did he use? Lascivious?"

"Libidinous!" Charlie laughed.

"Libidinous!" Don echoed. "So he tells you this right in front of Amita?"

"Honest! You should have seen the look on Amita's face! It was priceless."

"I'm sure yours was too, buddy." Don was behind the wheel of his SUV but still reached over and gave Charlie an affectionate nudge on the arm.

"I didn't know what to say! I mean, it's not every day someone tells you your life's pursuit is worse than asexual, it's nonsexual!"

"I'm sorry, but no one can convince me that Amita's not a sexy mathematician."

"I'm not arguing that point." Charlie put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. Don already knew his thoughts on Amita.

Don's cell phone rang and he answered it in hands-free mode, not needing to hide the call from Charlie since he already had full clearance.

"Eppes!"

"Don, it's David. We're out in Century City following up on a tip about a money laundering operation. Don, we hit the jackpot. This is huge and we have a witness willing to testify to the whole thing."

"That's great! Charlie and I were headed into the office but we'll come by there instead." Don glanced at Charlie who nodded in agreement. "Give me the address."

* * *

Don and Charlie arrived at the scene and Charlie made himself useful by assisting the Bureau's forensic accountants in identifying the relevant documentation.

Charlie got so caught up in the numbers he didn't notice Don approach him.

"Having fun?" Don joked.

Charlie grinned. "About as much fun as you can have with numbers at a crime scene."

"Well, don't worry, the accountants will pack up all of this stuff and haul it back to the Bureau where you can spend some quality time with it." Don put his arm around Charlie's shoulder and gave him a good-natured shake.

"Ok, then I'll live," Charlie mock complained. "So, are we heading into the office now? We still need to go over my findings on the identity theft case."

"Not just yet. I have to take our witness to a safe house first. She's pretty shaken up. She's convinced the gang behind this is going to kill her."

Don and Charlie headed back to the SUV where David met up with them, escorting a young Hispanic woman.

"Charlie, this is Carmen Cruz, our witness."

Charlie reached out to shake her hand and she offered hers nervously.

"You're very brave to do this," he told her.

"I don't feel brave," Carmen said in a small voice. "I just didn't know what else to do, or how else to get myself out of this."

"You're doing the right thing, and that's what's important, Carmen," Don said reassuringly.

The three got into the black SUV; Don and Charlie up front and Carmen in the back seat behind Don.

"Don't worry, Carmen. Everything's going to be fine. It's only a few miles to the safe house," Don assured her.

* * *

They drove in silence, the brotherly rapport dampened by Carmen's frightened presence.

Both men had tried to engage her in conversation, but after receiving only monosyllabic answers, it seemed best to leave her in peace.

Don drove quickly yet carefully, trying not to draw too much attention to the car, a practiced habit from years of FBI experience.

Unfortunately, despite his experience, he didn't see the setup coming until it was too late.

A large delivery van suddenly and purposefully screeched right, blocking their lane so close to them there was no way Don could avoid an impact. Fearful of the injuries his brother might sustain in a head-on crash, Don quickly turned to the right hoping to hit the van on his side instead of head-on. It worked, but Don remembered too late that Carmen was on his side of the car.

The SUV's airbags deployed on impact and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 1

Brothers in Arms 2/5

* * *

Chapter One:

Cold.

Don felt the cold first, seeping through his thin dress shirt into his aching back muscles.

His eyes opened slowly and he found himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling in a dimly lit room.

Disoriented, he tried to sit up only to feel sharp pains shooting through his torso. His head swam, and he had to lie back down for a moment and breathe to avoid passing out. His head hurt and his mind was cloudy; he struggled through the thick fog of his thoughts to figure out where he was and what had happened.

He'd been driving... The accident! Charlie! Don's thoughts suddenly cleared as he recalled trying to protect his brother from the impact. He looked around, panicked, and saw Charlie lying on the concrete floor a few yards away. His heart seized in his chest and he cried out, "Charlie!" Charlie lay deathly still and his lack of response chilled Don beyond what he thought possible. Fighting back the stabbing pains in his chest, Don scrambled over to him and gasped in shock at the sight of his brother's bloody and battered body. "No, no, no!" This wasn't happening to him. Every nightmare he'd ever had about Charlie getting hurt had now come true.

Frantic, he felt for Charlie's pulse and found it slow yet strong; his breathing shallow yet steady. Tears streaming down his face, Don called out to him, unable to keep the despair from his voice. "Come on, buddy, please wake up! Please... Please..." Don ached inside beyond the pain of his injuries, praying for Charlie to show him a sign, any sign, that he was going to be all right.

When that glimmer of hope failed to materialize, Don sat beside his motionless brother and wept, each gasp and sob causing him physical pain that was far outweighed by the emotional agony he was in. He looked into Charlie's face, devoid of emotion in its stillness but still somehow inherently innocent. Instantly blaming himself for Charlie's condition, Don thought: what have I done? This is my fault. Charlie's hurt because of me.

After a moment, Don realized he had to get a hold of himself. He knew deep down that wallowing in his failure wasn't going to get them out of this situation so he choked down his emotions, allowing the trained agent in him to take over. Using his triage experience, he tried to assess Charlie's injuries. His inspection found no evidence of broken limbs and the cuts on his face and head seemed mostly superficial. The fact that they were not actively bleeding told Don he likely had been unconscious for at least a couple of hours since the accident.

Don looked around the small room, but there was no sign of Carmen. He inspected their prison, hoping to find some way out. They appeared to be in a basement room, given the look of the floors and walls. There was a single water faucet dripping slowly into a large bucket but otherwise the room was empty.

The concrete floor was very cold so Don gathered his brother up in his arms in hopes of keeping him warm. He was more nervous than he'd like to admit about being unable to wake Charlie. He had no way of knowing the severity of the head injuries beyond the cuts.

Don propped up Charlie so his head was on Don's shoulder. Don rocked him back and forth, more to comfort himself than anything else. When he couldn't bear the silence any longer he started talking to Charlie, partially in hopes of waking him but also to chase away the doubts he had about finding a way to get his brother out of this situation.

"Well, Dad's going to be pretty pissed at me. He's going to say 'Why did you take your baby brother with you when you knew people were after this witness? What, there weren't any other FBI agents that could give him a ride?' What am I supposed to say to that, Charlie? I was selfish? I was having such a good time working with my little brother that I didn't want him to not be in the car with me?"

Don wasn't sure how long he'd been babbling when Charlie finally stirred.

"Hey, buddy... Come on back, it's okay..." Don said softly, relieved that he was finally coming around.

Only a second after Charlie's face began to register consciousness, it began to register pain. His breath became ragged and his body curled in on itself automatically in a protective gesture. Don's relief turned to fear when he saw Charlie's reaction and he held him closer, scared, and whispered reassuring words.

"You're going to be fine, everything's going to be fine. I'll get us out of this, you'll see."

Charlie took a sharp breath and held it, startling Don who pulled back to look at him.

Charlie's eyes fluttered as he looked up into his brother's face. "Donnie..."

"I'm right here, buddy," Don said in his best big brother voice.

"Hurts..." Charlie's voice was barely above a whisper and it broke Don's heart to hear the pain in it.

"Hurts..." Charlie repeated and after another gasp of pain, he fell limp, eyes closing, fading back into unconsciousness.

Don had tried to be strong up to that point, but this drove to the center of his being. His desolation complete, he held his brother tightly and let the sobs wrack his body until he too faded away.

* * *

A loud noise in the distance woke Don. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out but his first response was to check on Charlie. Still breathing, heart still steady, even if it didn't seem quite as strong as before. Based on his hunger pangs, Don guessed that he'd missed at least two meals already.

The noises continued and Don could tell they were a group of footsteps heading his way.

He carefully laid Charlie down in a position similar to how he'd found him and took his place on the floor where he'd originally been. He hoped the kidnappers would assume they'd never regained consciousness and would not do any new harm to either of them.

Don lay down, closed his eyes, and opened his trained ears to any sounds that might help him assess their situation.

The door opened only long enough for the people on the other side to throw someone in the cell with them.

Don waited a few minutes until the noises were gone then went to see if it was Carmen. It was, and she was in much worse shape than Charlie. She was barely breathing and her wounds had not stopped bleeding yet. As he did what he could to bandage her wounds with strips of her clothing, Don reminded himself that she could have been injured after the accident as well and tried not to beat himself up over it. He needed to stay sharp if he and his brother were going to get out of this alive. Unless help arrived soon, Don feared it would be too late for Carmen.

* * *

When Charlie woke next, Don tried desperately to get him to drink some water, knowing they'd likely been held captive for over 12 hours at this point if his fatigue and hunger were any indication. He'd been unable to get any sort of response from Carmen and after watching her vital signs slip, he resigned himself to saving the one person who still had a chance.

With Charlie unable to sit up on his own and without a cup, Don was frustrated in his attempts to get water to Charlie. He finally carried Charlie across the room and held him under the tap. He choked slightly but managed to drink more than Don could have brought to him.

Charlie didn't speak but his face showed the pain he was in had not abated at all.

Don choked down his guilt and, after checking on Carmen one last time, settled down with Charlie for the night.

* * *

Don woke on the floor, confused for a moment. His memory finally returned to him after a few seconds. He'd tried to hold Charlie up off the floor all night but his own pain and injuries coupled with lack of food and exhaustion did him in. He had laid Charlie down on the floor on his side and wrapped himself around him as best he could to share his body heat.

Touching Charlie, Don was alarmed to find his skin cold. Don's chest clenched and he rushed to check Charlie's pulse. It was still there, just harder to find than the day before. Don checked on Carmen next and found her to be truly cold to the touch. She hadn't made it through the night.

Feeling desperate and helpless, Don made one more round of the cell, hoping he'd missed something the day before. His efforts turned up nothing again. There was no way out of the room unless someone came and let them out. Don knew he was the only one who could get Charlie out in time, but he was unable to make any headway with getting the door open.

Don drank his fill of water and sat back down with Charlie to warm him up as best he could.

* * *

The day passed much the same way as the last had, with the exception of Carmen's arrival and demise. No food, no visits from the kidnappers, and a struggle to wake Charlie enough to help him drink water. At this rate, if Don couldn't bring him around soon, he'd die of dehydration before Don perished from starvation.

Don knew in his heart what their fate was if no one found them. Kidnappers who wanted ransom often abused their captives but they always fed them, not wanting their insurance to die in case they were needed as leverage. These people likely hadn't been interested in ransom at all. They'd simply wanted to grab Carmen and he and Charlie just got in the way. Don figured they tortured her to find out what she'd told the FBI, then dumped her soon to be dead body in the room with them and left with no intention of returning. Don figured the last thing they wanted was for Carmen to turn up, dead or alive.

Don had yelled, screamed, and pounded on the door. He'd tried breaking it down, despite how much it aggravated his already painful injuries. He'd tried picking the lock as well. All of his personal items had been taken including his gun and wallet so he had nothing to work with. Charlie and Carmen's pockets were also barren. Don would have given anything for even a piece of bubble gum. He would have ended up saving it for Charlie though, despite the fact that its meager sugar calories likely wouldn't do much good at this point.

The second night was worse than the first. Charlie was cold even before Don laid him down on the floor and his guilt at not being able to hold him up any longer was killing him. He feared he'd wake, as he did the morning before, to find that this time it was Charlie's turn to not make it through the night.

As such, he barely slept, constantly monitoring Charlie's breathing and pulse rate and forcing down his panic as both slowed and grew more uneven.

* * *

The morning of the third day, Don tried to pull Charlie up and found he could no longer do so. His headache and dizzy spells had been getting worse each day instead of better, and each day it was harder to open his eyes and keep them open. He struggled to keep himself up, knowing that if he lost consciousness, Charlie might not stand a chance. It'd already been half a day since he'd been able to force any water down Charlie's throat and he knew he couldn't go much longer. He tried valiantly to drag Charlie to the water tap but collapsed partway there. Don gathered the last of his reserves and reached for his brother only to have his sight dim as his hand touched his arm.

"Charlie..." he whispered and then there was silence.


	3. Chapter 2

Brothers in Arms 3/5

* * *

Chapter Two:

Don's alarm clock was beeping and it was annoying him.

He wanted to turn it off but realized that his alarm clock didn't beep, it played music.

Then what was beeping?

He opened his eyes just as slits and looked around him in a daze, seeing machines with blinking lights next to him. This wasn't home and it wasn't Charlie's house. Charlie...

Don forced himself awake and tried to sit up only to have gentle hands push him back down.

"Charlie!"

"Shh... Don, it's okay." Terry's face appeared before him as she gently urged him back to his pillow. "You're in the hospital."

"Charlie? Where's Charlie?" Don was frantic and could not be dissuaded.

"He's right here." Terry gestured to the bed next to Don's where Charlie lay, also surrounded by machines. Alan was asleep in the chair next to Charlie's bed, his head lying on the blanket beside his son's hand.

"Is he all right?" Don couldn't take his eyes off of the respirator that proved Charlie was still breathing even if it wasn't on his own.

"It was close, but he'll recover and you will too." Terry was glad beyond belief to hear Don's voice again. She'd gotten the call and arrived at the hospital only a minute or two after they were brought in, both barely clinging to life. The sight of the man she cared most about, and his brother, so close to death had been devastating for her and she'd not been able to leave their side since.

"Dad... He must have been so..." Don had been so consumed with guilt at what he let happen to Charlie he'd completely neglected to consider the guilt from the pain he'd caused his father. Having lost his wife less than a year ago, the disappearance of both sons at once and the thought that he might never recover any bodies to bury must have destroyed him.

"Your dad is made of strong stuff, Don. He had faith in the FBI and in his sons to survive."

"How did you find us?" Don asked.

"A man called the police to report a bad smell from the vacant house next door. He was a retired hospital worker and said the smell reminded him of the morgue, of dead bodies. The police came out to investigate and found you both unconscious next to Carmen's body. Your photos had been all over the police stations for days, so they recognized you immediately and called the FBI right after they called for an ambulance."

Don nodded. "I wanted to save him. I failed."

"You kept him alive, Don. The doctors assessed that if Charlie had been alone, he likely would not have been able to drink sufficient fluids without assistance, and he wouldn't have made it long enough for help to arrive. As it was, he was dehydrated, but that wasn't the worst of his problems."

Terry paused for a moment, knowing what she had to say would be difficult for Don to hear. "Don, I doubt Charlie was able to talk at all so you might not know this, but it looks like in addition to the car accident he was also beaten. Based on the bruises, we're guessing it was with a tire iron."

Don winced and looked away. Another failure to protect Charlie from harm when he'd already gotten him caught up in this mess in the first place.

"We found the car and saw the damage. We guessed that you spun out the car to protect Charlie and that he wasn't hurt that badly. The kidnappers didn't want him conscious, probably because he tried to fight them off rather than let them take you. Forensics found skin under Charlie's fingernails so he must have fought them at some point and lost."

Charlie, his little brother, fighting off criminals trying to keep his big brother safe. It was almost too much for Don to bear.

"He has a serious concussion and some internal bleeding from the beating he took. He has four cracked ribs and one of them nicked his lung - which wouldn't have been so bad had he gotten immediate medical attention - but the internal bleeding got worse over time and damaged his lung. The doctors were able to repair the damage, but they're keeping him unconscious to avoid potential swelling of the brain from the head injury and to give him a chance to heal."

Don felt a twist in the pit of his stomach. He imagined Charlie, the genius, recovering only to find that genius destroyed by brain damage. Damage that would never have happened if Don had just kept Charlie out of his world. He also realized that, having missed the broken ribs during triage; it might have been his handling of Charlie that caused the rib to puncture his lung. How could he have been so careless with his only sibling's life?

"Don, I know what you're thinking. Stop beating yourself up over Charlie and just focus on getting well yourself."

Don couldn't look at her. How could he tell her there was no way he could turn off these constant thoughts of guilt and remorse? Don suddenly had a new understanding of Charlie's private P vs. NP hell.

Terry reached out and smoothed Don's furrowed brow. "Rest now. It's 3AM and Charlie will need you to be strong when he does wake up. So will your father. Now sleep..."

Her soothing voice and hands finally lured Don back into a restorative sleep.

* * *

Don's eyes fluttered and tried to open. He felt strange and realized it was probably the drugs in the IV he saw in his hand when his eyes finally opened.

"Donnie!" Alan stood up so Don could see him better. "I was so worried!"

"Dad..." Don tried to sit up but his father pushed him back down gently, much as Terry had done the night before.

"Donnie, you have five broken ribs and three cracked ones. You're not sitting up for a while so get used to it."

Ribs? Don remembered being in pain before but had pushed it aside to take care of Charlie.

"Broken ribs?" Don asked, trying to fight his way out of the drug induced haze enough to talk to his father.

"And a concussion. You didn't notice your ribs were broken? How can that be?" Alan was perplexed.

"Too worried about Charlie..." Don mumbled and Alan's heart broke. He had trusted his eldest son to care for his baby brother and he'd done it to the exclusion of his own well-being.

"Well, you don't have to worry any more. Charlie's right here and the doctors say he's progressing well. He's a fighter and he'll be back with us in no time." Alan tried to inject a note of confidence into his voice for Don's sake even though he'd spent the first several hours of their time in the hospital in near hysterics at how close both his sons had come to dying.

"I'm so sorry, Dad. It's all my fault..." Don's eyes welled up with tears now that he had to face his father and admit his failure.

"Donnie, no. I won't listen to this. You were not responsible for what happened. I know you don't believe that but I'm telling you now, I don't lay any blame on you and I know Charlie wouldn't either."

Don wanted desperately to believe him but knew that until Charlie woke up, he wouldn't know if his brother would ever want to speak to him again. In fact, in Don's nightmares, Charlie couldn't speak because the brain damage was too severe. He'd just looked at his older brother, the genius glint in his eyes now extinguished, with an accusing glare as if to say, 'you did this to me'.

Don looked at his father for a moment, then turned and stared out the window. He had no strength to argue and no will to believe his father's assurances.

Alan knew his son was hurting inside, but felt helpless to slay the demons that haunted his thoughts. All he could do was hold his son's hand until he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

At Don's insistence, his bed had been moved across the room so it was right next to Charlie's. Don wanted both to keep a closer eye on him and to be able to reach over and touch him when he woke from yet another nightmare in which Charlie didn't survive.

Charlie's doctors had finally weaned him from the medication that kept him asleep and promised he'd likely wake on his own within a day or so.

Don watched him carefully as did Alan, but Terry mostly watched Don. She understood his anguish and knew she could do nothing to help him until Charlie returned to him and forgave him, as she was sure he would.

She volunteered to take Alan to the cafeteria for dinner knowing he wouldn't eat unless forced to. Don made him go, swearing he'd call for them if anything went wrong in their absence.

Don was grateful to have a little time alone with Charlie. Their father had been a near constant presence, and Terry had obviously taken time off from work - as she was there nearly as much as Alan was.

Don wanted a chance to talk to Charlie before he woke up, afraid he'd lack the courage to say what he needed to say if he had to look his brother in the eye.

Don reached across the small gap between the beds and took Charlie's hand.

"Hey, buddy..." he began haltingly. "I know you're in there and I think you might just be able to hear me so I'm going to talk for a bit and hope you understand me."

"I am... god, I am so sorry, buddy. I should never have dragged you into my work in the first place. I know I only let you help on those stock fraud and IRS cases to get you off my back at first, but then... then you really came through for us on the Haldane case. I wanted to crack that case so bad but man, I was nowhere. Then you swoop in, and suddenly it's solved and a woman's life is saved. I was so proud of you that day. I just couldn't find a good way to tell you. I think you knew, but I should have made the effort to tell you how much it meant to have you help, to work beside you and do good. I mean, I knew you did good work, but I figured I had the whole saving the world angle on you as far as the tangible benefits of my work went. Then you come along right out of your ivory tower and prove to me that math, yeah math, can save lives too. God, do you even realize that you might have saved hundreds of thousands of people from the Spanish flu? I haven't doubted you since. But, you... I think you put too much faith in me. You were so sure I'd always get the bad guys and that nothing could ever go wrong on my watch."

Don's throat started to close up as the tears and pain threatened to overwhelm him. "But something did go wrong. You got hurt. Terry told me that by trying to save you from the effects of the car accident I opened you up to a beating that hurt you even worse. What were you thinking taking on those guys? They had a tire iron and you thought... I don't know what you were thinking, but I know I'd have done the same thing. But I'm the big brother; it's my job to take care of you. It's not your job to take care of me. Look where it got you. I'm okay and you're... you're..." Don couldn't finish. Looking at Charlie's pale and unnaturally still form tore him up inside.

Don grasped Charlie's hand tightly and stopped trying to hold back the sobs that had been building up in his chest. He held his brother's hand and cried out all his grief, pain and guilt until there was nothing left in him but the empty space where Charlie had once been.


	4. Chapter 3

Brothers in Arms 4/5

* * *

Chapter Three:

Don woke to find the room bright and sunny. Daytime, although which day it was was completely beyond Don's comprehension. He'd lost track of time in captivity and now couldn't seem to stay awake long enough to remember to ask for a calendar update.

He glanced over at Charlie and noticed his respirator had been removed. He still looked wan, but some color at least had started to return.

His father was lying on a cot in the corner with a book over his face, snoring quietly. Terry was missing in action, but there was a note by his bedside attached to his water cup. 'Drink up! Will be back soon. - T.'

Don's doctors had finally taken him off his IV and he was starting to be able to eat and drink again after being fed intravenously since he was brought in. It felt strange to eat and his body could only handle the most basic comfort foods, but Don was just grateful to have food again after having been denied it for so many days.

Don reached over to Charlie and took his hand. It seemed warmer somehow and Don hoped it wasn't just his imagination.

"Charlie, please..." Don whispered. "Please come back to me. I can't do this without you. Dad needs you too. Come back to us..."

Don squeezed Charlie's hand and sighed. No matter what Charlie's doctors said, he wouldn't believe his brother was going to make a full recovery until he woke up and told him so himself.

Don turned his head away from the sun, wishing he felt as light as the room he lay in.

An almost imperceptible movement caught his eye and when he looked at Charlie closely, he did look like he was breathing deeper than before. Just as Don was going to chalk it up to his imagination, something happened to both prove to him he'd been right and to make his heart flood with joy. Charlie squeezed his hand.

He came around very slowly and Don had trouble being patient. He decided to spur him on and whispered words of encouragement to him. "You're doing great, buddy. Dad and I are right here and we can't wait to talk to you. I know you're tired and it's easy to go back to sleep, but try to wake up now. You're safe and everything's going to be fine, just like I promised."

Don had thrown out those words so casually that it didn't hit him until he thought about them that even though he'd promised that to Charlie before, things hadn't turned out fine. In fact, they'd almost hit the worst possible scenario.

Charlie stirred again and gave Don's hand a fresh squeeze. His mouth moved but no sound came out. Fighting back the pain, Don sat up in bed so Charlie could see him.

Charlie's eyes fluttered several times before they managed to stay open. Charlie looked dazed but latched on to Don's face immediately.

"Donnie..." The word was more breath than tone but to Don it was a lifeline.

"Hey, buddy," he whispered, holding Charlie's hand even tighter. "I was worried about you."

"Not dead," Charlie murmured, trying to take in his surroundings.

"No, you're not dead," Don explained patiently. "You're in the hospital. We're in the hospital."

Despite the haze he was in, a flash of panic crossed Charlie's face. "You're hurt..."

"I'm fine, buddy. Just a few dents." Shirtless, Don knew Charlie could see the bandages wrapped around his chest and would not be convinced that Don was unharmed. "You're the one I'm worried about. How are you feeling?"

Charlie's face screwed up in concentration and Don imagined him trying to do a full internal inventory before answering the question.

"Feel weird..." Charlie seemed like he wanted to say more, but either couldn't or wouldn't. Don picked up on this after a second.

"Charlie, if it hurts, tell me. We'll get the doctors to up your pain meds. Trust me, this is good stuff." He tried to give Charlie a reassuring smile, but it didn't really feel natural.

"It's okay." Charlie's eyes opened and closed a few times and he finally appeared to win the battle against sleep and opened his eyes more fully, finally giving Don a full appraisal. He removed his hand from Don's grasp and gently touched Don's bandaged rib cage.

"Broken?" he asked, with concern in his voice.

"Just a couple and a few cracked ones. No big deal." Don took Charlie's hand and moved it away from his torso, putting it back on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Don was incredulous. "I almost got you killed and you're saying you're sorry? Charlie, man, I've got the corner on that market."

Charlie shook his head. "Not your fault. You were out cold after the accident. The men who came to take you... I was stupid to try to take them on. I just couldn't..." Charlie's voice caught and Don squeezed his hand and fought down the urge to interrupt him with protests. "I wanted to keep them from taking you and I failed."

"Charlie, it's not your job to protect me," Don admonished him softly.

"Yes it is. You're my brother. You couldn't stick up for yourself so I had to. I tried at least to get some DNA for the FBI to track but I think it just pissed them off. When they pulled out the tire iron I knew it was a lost cause..." Don winced. "But by then it was too late. There were too many of them and they were too fast. They got you and Carmen out of the car, and then I saw the tire iron come at my head. I didn't see anything after that."

Don must have been grasping Charlie's hand too tightly, because Charlie brought his other hand over and put it on top of Don's lightly as if to encourage him to loosen it up.

Don pulled away, embarrassed, but Charlie sought his hand out again and brought their joined hands to his chest.

"Don, please don't blame yourself for what happened." Charlie's voice sounded older and maybe even wiser than Don had ever heard it. Facing death evidently had a sobering effect on people, causing them to mature far more rapidly than if fate had had its way with them in the normal course of time.

Don had to look away for a moment. He didn't want to argue with Charlie but he wanted, no needed, his forgiveness and his assurance that they would still be brothers once Charlie realized that this really did happen because of Don.

"Charlie, how can I not blame myself? It was because of me you were in that car. It was because of me you were in the wreck. I got you beaten with a tire iron, trapped in a basement cell with no way out and no food. I was the one who couldn't get you out of the room they threw us in to die. We only survived from dumb luck that some neighbor called the police about the smell from Carmen's body." Don saw Charlie bristle and he realized he'd not yet told him that Carmen was dead.

"Donnie, you saved me," Charlie pleaded with his brother to believe him. "I was so cold and then suddenly I was warm again. That was you. You gave me your warmth and kept me from the cold. I'd wake up thirsty and you gave me water, made me drink even when I was too out of it to realize I needed water. I was lost..." His voice cracked a little and grew soft. "I was out there somewhere and couldn't find my way back. Then I heard you talking to me and your voice grounded me. I stayed because you kept me there. You saved me, Don. Okay, so maybe Don the FBI agent didn't get us out of that room, but Don - the brother I trusted with my life - kept me alive. I'd have died without you."

"You wouldn't have been in that room in the first place if it wasn't for me." Don wanted desperately to believe what Charlie was saying, but he just couldn't let go of the guilt.

"Maybe not," Charlie said, "but you would have. Maybe if I hadn't been there to take care of you wouldn't have made it yourself. Maybe I was there to save you."

As odd as that logical leap sounded, it felt strangely comforting to Don. Perhaps fate had meant for them to go through this as a pair, knowing they were strong enough together to survive what either could not have done on their own.

"Ow..." Charlie tried to sit up and found it was too painful to do so.

"Charlie! Stay down, don't try to get up!" Don placed his hand against Charlie's shoulder to ensure he didn't try again. "You've got four cracked ribs and a punctured lung. You need to lay still."

"What, your ribs are broken and you get to sit up, but I don't?" Charlie teased, hoping to make Don smile.

"Well, I'm not supposed to be sitting up either, but still..."

"Then you lay down!" Charlie admonished. "If you don't, I'm just going to keep trying to sit up to annoy you."

"Okay, okay," Don admitted defeat. "I just wanted to be able to see you, that's all. It's just, I thought..."

"That you'd never see me alive again?" Charlie finished softly. "Don, I'm not that easy to get rid of." Charlie smiled at his brother. "Now lie back down and give me your hand."

Don reclined back on his pillows slowly then extended his arm towards Charlie's bed. Charlie took his hand in his and placed both their hands on his chest.

"There. Now you can feel me breathing with your eyes closed. So get some rest. We'll have plenty of time to talk later. Plenty of time for me to talk you out of blaming yourself for this." Charlie's eyes started to close again as did Don's.

"Charlie?" Don couldn't rest until he heard what he needed to hear.

Charlie seemed to know instinctively what his brother needed. "Donnie, I don't hold you responsible, so how can I forgive you for something you didn't do wrong? But if that's what you need to hear, then fine - I forgive you. Now get some rest. I promise I'll be here and doing fine when you wake up."

For the first time in his life, Don felt like Charlie was the older brother. As strange as that role reversal was for Don, he'd heard what he needed to hear. Charlie had forgiven him.

"Donnie?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Charlie."

They gave each other's hand a squeeze, and then the two brothers drifted slowly into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

When Alan woke, he found his two sons sleeping hand in hand. Tears fell from his tired eyes as he watched them, Charlie with a small smile on his lips and Don looking peaceful for the first time since he'd returned, as if his grief and pain had been magically erased.


	5. Epilogue

Brothers in Arms 5/5

* * *

Epilogue:

Charlie rode the elevator to Don's office, grateful he had it all to himself. He hadn't been to Don's office in months, not since they'd almost died in that basement room. Charlie was feeling anxious about taking on his first case since that event. The anxiety had nothing to do with the dangers of working with the FBI. It was because of Don.

Don had refused to see a therapist after their ordeal even though Charlie and Alan were going both separately and together. Both brother and father knew Don needed help even more than they did and his denial was somehow proof of that.

They had managed an intervention of sorts when Don had a relapse from pushing himself too hard after being released from the hospital. They had agreed to a compromise solution: Terry, as a trained psychologist, would stand in for a regular therapist, and she pretended she was doing this more as an impartial friend of the family instead of as a mental health professional.

Because he knew Terry and because Terry knew the pressures of working at the FBI, Don was finally able to open up to her, both one on one and in the family sessions Terry had insisted upon.

When Don looked to be at his lowest, Charlie had broken out the big guns, deciding that keeping secrets wasn't worth the anguish his brother was lost in.

Don had been stressing the fact that Charlie would have come to no harm had he never brought him in to consult for the FBI. Unable to make any headway with Terry as moderator, Charlie had finally gotten up and stood in front of Don.

"Don, I want you to see something." Charlie pulled up his shirt a few inches while turning briefly to his father, "Dad, I never meant for you to hear about this, but I think Don needs to know."

Charlie turned to the side and folded down the edge of his pants an inch just above his hip. "This scar might look familiar to you, Don, even though you didn't even know I had it. You've got one just like it on your arm from the bank robbery."

Don looked closely and felt a chill go through him. It did look like the scar he'd gotten when a bullet grazed his arm. "Charlie, are you telling me..." Don almost couldn't get the words out. "Are you telling me you got shot?"

"Yes. Well, grazed like you were, to be more exact. One centimeter to the side and it would have missed me. One centimeter to the other side and I'd be walking around with an artificial hip."

Alan let out a gasp but remained silent, waiting to hear his son's explanation.

"Dad, do you remember that consulting job I had in D.C. last year?"

Alan nodded. "The one that ran way longer than you thought it would."

"Yes, only it didn't run longer. I just stayed there after it was done. I was out in the field with the D.C. police and we got shot at. Two cops were hit, one died and I got away with just a grazed hip. I stayed to recover there so you wouldn't know about it."

"Oh, Charlie!" Alan was beside himself. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"So soon after Mom died? Dad, you couldn't have handled it. I couldn't worry you at a time like that."

Charlie turned back to Don. "Or you. You think that your work makes my life dangerous? Don, my work makes my life dangerous. I choose to work with law enforcement and not just with the FBI. I put myself in harm's way to do good in the world, same as you. This is not risk that you put me in, it's risk I chose to take on and I'll keep doing it whether it's with you or without you. The whole reason I chose to go into applied mathematics, instead of pure theory, was to see my work affect people in real, tangible ways. If you think my life would be totally safe without you, then I'll just have to ask the military to give you clearance to read about the weeks I spent in Afghanistan with them."

Don was stunned. "You were in Afghanistan? You consulted with the military in an active combat zone?"

Charlie nodded. "Trust me, Don, riding in a car with you is a picnic compared to working in the field with the military. Sure, I hadn't planned on getting beat up, but I was fully aware of the possibilities even before you asked me to start consulting with you. If you don't believe me, I'll show you my life insurance policy. I raised my coverage a good four years before you and I ever worked together."

Don was speechless. Alan just kept shaking his head in disbelief.

Charlie crouched down in front of Don and put his hands on Don's knees to get his attention. "Don, I told you this because I need for you to realize what happened is not your fault. I need for you to understand that the risks you accepted when you took the job are the same risks I accepted when I started working as well. I need for you to believe that, as your brother, I had every right to risk life and limb to fight off the men who tried to take you away, and Don, most of all, I need you to see that you saved my life in that room even if you weren't the reason we got out. I am alive because of you, Don. Not despite you."

Hearing this let loose a floodgate in Don and suddenly every emotion he had suppressed, all the pain he'd felt, came out of him at once, uncontrollably. Charlie moved to sit next to him on the couch and wrapped his arms around him, shooing Alan and Terry away with a warning glance. This was between the brothers and they had to work it out on their own.

* * *

Now Charlie was walking towards Don's office, hoping their breakthrough had been enough to help Don feel ready for Charlie to start consulting with the FBI again.

He hovered just a few yards from Don's desk and watched him work for a few moments before approaching. Charlie loved watching Don work. He was so confident and commanding, always so in control. It had only taken Charlie a few weeks of working with Don to realize what every teacher and their parents had missed. Don was a genius in his own right, just not with numbers. Charlie was continually amazed at how Don kept making these brilliant leaps of intuition while working on cases: figuring out criminals' targets and motives, uncovering patterns of behavior that even Terry as a profiler had missed, and knowing exactly when and how to direct his team to ensure the best possible outcome in any tactical situation.

Juggling his phone, team members and paperwork, Don exuded competence. Charlie decided he'd have to find a private time to tell Don all this. Having almost lost his brother and his own life, he had concluded that it wasn't a good idea to put off telling people how you felt about them. Life was too short, or could be too short. Charlie walked up and waited for Don to get off the phone.

Don smiled at him and reached over to give Charlie's shoulder a squeeze while he finished up his call.

"Nice to see you got all dressed up for us!" Don joked, putting the phone back in its cradle and giving Charlie's t-shirt and jeans combo the once over.

Charlie grinned. "Didn't I tell you? I'm undercover masquerading as a college student."

Don chuckled. "Charlie, that's got to be the easiest assignment in the world for you. Your entire wardrobe screams college student, not college professor!"

They both laughed, glad to have their old rapport back in place.

"Come on, let's get you set up in the workroom. The data's all ready for you."

As Charlie settled into a chair in the workroom, he took a moment to grab Don's arm as he passed by.

"Don?"

"Yeah, Charlie?"

"It's good to be back."

Don paused at this and gave Charlie the smile he'd been hoping to see.

"It's good to have you back, buddy."

Charlie returned his smile.

Now, it truly was good to be back.


End file.
